#25 - Strangers

#25; Strangers

Mikey's brother was sipping his coffee, staring out of the window contemplatively. It was a grey, miserable day, the drizzle enough to be unpleasant but not quite enough for people to open their umbrellas.

"I brought you another coffee," Mikey said, because he was the best little brother ever. Gerard smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. Mikey sighed.

"Look, Gee," he said softly. "You can't be hung up on him forever."

"Yeah," Gerard mumbled, ducking his head so his stupid, greasy hair fell in his eyes and covered his face, like he thought Mikey wouldn't be able to read his emotions if he couldn't see his face. "Yeah, I dunno. I guess."

"Quitting drinking was a big deal," Mikey said. "He didn't respect that decision. You're better off without him."

"Yeah," Gerard said, still not looking up at Mikey. Mikey sighed. His brother's hunched, helpless figure just screamed loneliness, begged for a friendly face.

"You're not a lost cause," Mikey said, touching Gerard's arm lightly, making Gerard look up and lock eyes with him. Mikey tried hard not to squeeze his own eyes shut - the tired, dull hazel orbs still had a hint of the drink, and Mikey knew the alcoholic was still lurking behind them. He'd seen Gerard at his worst, and he didn't want to go through that again. The agonising pain of watching the person you love the most rip themselves apart, tear themselves to shreds, and have to pick up the pieces for them when they lose control was more than he thought he'd ever be able to cope with.

It had been his worst nightmare, but somehow, he'd survived.

"Yes, I am," Gerard said, sadly. "I'm hardly the most attractive of people. I'm an alco- recovering alcoholic," he said, seeing the look on Mikey's face. "I'm, well. I'm not what people want."

"You'll be what someone wants," Mikey told him, seeing his manager glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. "I have to go now, but Gee, seriously." The two made eye contact again.

Don't do anything stupid.

I won't.

The unspoken words were so much better than the spoken words, sometimes. Gerard poured his soul into his words, both spoken and unspoken, but there was a little something about the unspoken that made them more emotional, more meaningful.

I love you.

They also helped Mikey say the things he couldn't say aloud.

I love you too.

Mikey offered Gerard a small smile before hurrying over to where Ray was standing, hands on hips.

It was going to be a long day.
-
"Gee? I'm home!" Mikey shouted to the silent apartment, dumping the bags of groceries he'd picked up on the way home on the kitchen table.

"Gee?"

"In here!" came the muffled reply from the spare room. Mikey frowned - they never used the spare room - and crossed the hallway in three long strides, jangling his keys in his hand.

"What the fuck are you doing in the spare room?" Mikey asked, trying to wedge the door open. It wasn't budging.

"I thought I could do something productive with my afternoon," Gerard said, and there was an almighty bang from inside. Mikey winced. That didn't sound good.

"What, as opposed to drawing comics and angsting over Grant Morrison?" Mikey asked, pounding on the door. "Let me see the damage you've done, this is my house too."

"Fuck you, I do not angst over Grant Morrison!" Gerard replied indignantly, immediately followed by an almighty crash.

"What the fuck are you doing, fighting a robot? Let me in, for God's sake!" Mikey said. There was a shuffle and a click and then the door opened, Gerard's pale face peering up at him.

Four years younger, and still taller. Ah, the bliss.

"I redecorated," Gerard said.

"Let me see," Mikey said.

"You sound worried," Gerard replied, biting his lip.

"I am," Mikey said. Gerard opened the door just a fraction wider, and Mikey pushed past him into the room.

Gerard had drawn awesome scenes from horror movies all over the walls. It never failed to astound him how good his brother could be at things when he set his mind to it.

He was also curious what had changed Gerard's mood from the depressive state he had been in earlier to the prolific, almost happy state he was in now.

"It's good," Mikey said, not bothering to keep the surprise lacing his words.

"You sound surprised," Gerard said.

"I am," Mikey replied. Gerard punched him lightly, before resting his head on Mikey's shoulder.

"What changed?" Mikey asked. To an outsider, it would seem like a vague, meaningless question, but Gerard knew exactly what he meant.

"Maybe something happened," Gerard mumbled.

"What does he look like?" Mikey demanded, and Gerard snorted.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," he said. Mikey nodded agreeably.

"So, what happened?" he said patiently, knowing the answer was exactly what he'd just predicted.

"I hate it when you're right," Gerard muttered, but the grin was audible in his voice.

"What happened?" Mikey asked again, and when Gerard raised his head from Mikey's shoulder, Mikey turned to face him.

"You know I had my sketchpad?" he said, and Mikey nodded. "Well, as I was leaving the café I dropped it, and all my papers fell ou- what the fuck, Mikey, it's not funny, it was raining and winding and everything!"

"Winding," Mikey said, straight-faced. "Seriously. Winding."

"Okay, it was windy, whatever, fine, happy?" Gerard huffed. He didn't like being interrupted when telling a story, which meant Mikey did so as often as possible.

"Anyway, I was picking them up, when. This guy." His voice was casual enough, but his eyes belied him.

This guy is the best thing that has happened to me in the last six months, his hazel eyes said.

"So, this guy," Mikey said, injecting the same amount of nonchalance to the words. "He picked up your sheets, drove you home, and your foot fit the glass slipper?" Gerard swiped at him, fussing.

"Fuck you," he whined, much like a petulant child.

"Okay," Mikey said, realising he wasn't going to get much else out of his brother. "I'm going to make coffee."
-
It was a normal Thursday mid-morning. The café had but one customer, and Mikey was sitting at the counter flipping through the latest edition of Umbrella Academy.

"Excuse me," a voice said, and Mikey looked up, slightly startled. A short but cute man was smiling hesitantly up at him. Mikey set Umbrella Academy aside.

"Can I help you?" he asked, in his best monotone.

"Well, er, yesterday, I was walking past your café with like, a million files in my hand, and I bumped into someone and their sheets went everywhere, and I helped them put them back together but I must have picked this up by mistake, and I want to give it back because it's a really good drawing and it'd be a shame to lose it," the guy said, all in one breath, brandishing a sheet of paper. Mikey grinned internally - perfect, now he wouldn't have to blackmail his brother for the guy's details - and extended a hand to take it from him.

"My brother won't be missing that," he said, scanning the sketch quickly. It was just an outline, a rough; it couldn't have taken Gerard more than a minute and a half. "Keep it," he added, thrusting it back into the guy's hands.

"What?" the guy asked. "This is, like. Amazing. How can he not miss this? It must have taken him, like, an hour. At least." Just as Mikey opened his mouth to correct the man - fifty-nine minutes off, he'd had worse - the bell atop the door chimed, and Gerard walked in.

"Gee," Mikey said, waving the piece of paper at him. "How long did this take you?"

"Like, a minute," Gerard frowned. "It was just a rough, I have the real copy somewhere else. Why? You know how long my drawings take me." Mikey grinned.

I've met him.

"Oh, holy- what the fuck, how?" Gerard asked, dumping his stuff on the nearest coffee table. Mikey stepped to the left, unblocking the guy from Gerard's line of sight.

The reaction was almost comical, from both of them. Gerard's lips formed a perfect 'O' shape, and his hand immediately flew to cover it - he hated his teeth. The guy bit his lip and waved, shyly and dorkily, and the whole situation was the most puke-worthy thing Mikey had ever seen.

"Shut up," Gerard told him hotly. "No it's not."

Mikey shrugged, because it totally was.

"Frank?" Gerard asked, and Mikey made a mental note to ask Pete (Pete knew everyone. And if he didn't, he knew someone who did).

"I, um, picked up, uh, drawing?" Frank said, flustered, and Gerard grinned. His eyes flashed to Mikey quickly, searching for approval.

Whatever floats your boat.

Gerard blushed.

"Do you two have some sort of silent telepathic communication superpower?" Frank said. "Because I would totally love that."

"To have it, or to behold it?" Mikey asked.

"Both," Frank said eagerly. "Mind-reading's the best superpower."

"As much as little family reunions warm my soul," Ray said dryly, walking in and glaring at Mikey. "I would like to have my employee back."

"For what?" Mikey asked, gesturing at the near-empty café.

"For reasons," Ray said, doing some kind of mad signalling with his eyebrows, like he thought Mikey would understand. He didn't, so Ray just sighed and pulled him into the kitchen at the back by his sleeve.

"Can you not see it?" Ray said excitedly, once they had rounded the corner. "Can't you just envision it?"

"Envision what?" Mikey asked blankly.

"Them," Ray said, gesturing behind him. "Gerard and that guy."

"Frank," Mikey put in helpfully.

"Frank," Ray corrected himself. "Gerard and Frank. They'll fuck sooner or later. Their wedding will be perfect. And their kids will be adorable." Mikey's stomach churned - gross, he did not need to think about his brother's sex life.

"Pretty sure it's biologically impossible for them to have children," Mikey pointed out, and Ray sighed, rolling his eyes in his trademark oh no Mikey doesn't understand what I'm on about sigh my life is so tragic sigh now I have to explain myself to someone of a lesser intellect sigh.

"Can you stop the visual sighing?" Mikey asked, and Ray shook his head, curls bouncing.

"Whatever," he said. "Get back to work."

"What work?"

"Jesus, Mikey. You're as irritating as your brother when you try."

"When and only when I try," Mikey said, ducking off to the alleyway to smoke a cigarette and text Pete.
-
D'you know someone called Frank? - M

iero? - p

Mikey rolled his eyes, before firing off a reply.

I don't know, dickwad, which is why I asked 'Frank'. - M

jeez calm down mikeyway ok is he short w/ a lip ring, black hair+scorpion tattoo on his neck? - p

Definitely short, no lip ring & didn't see his neck. - M

he did say he mite take it out...ok um well does he look like this? - p

Mikey's Sidekick flashed - IMAGE RECEIVED it exclaimed in big, black lettering - and he debated for a moment before opening the message (it was Pete, who knew, it might be another picture of his dick).

On his screen was a punkier version of the Frank he'd met, complete with stupid hair, lip ring and tattoo on his neck. He was grinning at someone out of view of the camera, but the photo had managed to capture his eyes sparkling as he laughed.

In an odd, platonic kind of way, he was kind of beautiful.

Yeah that's him. What can you tell me about him? - M

lol what is there 2 say um he likes punky kinda music u no like misfits black flag bouncing souls etc he likes playin guitar he likes pulling pranks on ppl and has no concept of personal space um he likes...he likes a lot o/ things - p

Apparently my brother is one of them. - M

no way...g & f?! - p was the immediate reply he got.

His phone buzzed again three seconds later, and Mikey looked at it in surprise.

frank n gerard!!!! u srs?!!?? - gabe ;)

News travelled fast in Pete Wentz's grapevine.
-
"Iero," Mikey said, dumping the bags of groceries on the table. Gerard looked up in surprise from where he was seated, sketching away.

"The fuck?" he said, as politely as usual.

"Iero," Mikey repeated, skirting around the counter to hook his chin over his brother's shoulder. "Frank. Frank Iero. Likes guitar, good music, practical jokes." Gerard groaned.

"Pete knows him," he said. "My life is over."

"Who doesn't Pete know?" Mikey pointed out.

"But," Gerard protested. "This is Pete."

"That is who we're discussing," Mikey said patiently, grabbing the chair opposite Gerard and sitting down.

"Oh God," Gerard said. "I was hoping I could just lust over him from a distance." Mikey felt slightly bad - after all, if he hadn't asked Pete about Frank, Pete and the world would never have found out - but shook it off, focusing on the little tug in his stomach that told him that this, this was something special. Frank was something special, for Gerard.

"This is different," Mikey said, hoping for once his gut instinct was right. "This isn't like anyone else."

Trust me.

"Frank's not going to like me," Gerard said. "I'm not his kind of guy." The I'm not anyone's kind of guy was unspoken, but it was there. Mikey frowned at his brother.

"Don't be mean about my brother," he said.

"I am your brother," Gerard said.

"Shut up," Mikey said, wandering off to make some coffee.
-
The next day when Mikey walked into work, Frank was seated at one of the small tables, head bent over something. Mikey wandered over to where Ray was standing, and nodded in Frank's direction.

"What?" he asked.

"He's been in here since opening," Ray shrugged. Mikey frowned - opening was six am.

"I know," Ray whispered, glancing around to ensure the many (two) customers wouldn't hear them. "I think he's waiting for Gerard."

"That's crazy," Mikey said. "How does he even know if Gerard's going to come in today?" Ray shrugged again.

"Ask him," he said, disappearing off into the kitchen to help Matt. Mikey sighed.

Social interaction which involved actual talking-to-people-who-aren't-Pete-Gerard-or-Ray was not his strongest point, which was why he clammed up in public, and let his brother do the talking.

However, he swallowed his social awkwardness-and-incapability and made his way to Frank's table.

How was he supposed to announce his entrance? Clear his throat loudly? Knock over Frank's coffee? Stand there and wait until Frank noticed? What was the etiquette for social situations like this?

"Hi," he said awkwardly after a good three minutes of standing there looking like a stalker as he had an internal debate with himself. Frank started in surprise. When he saw it was only Mikey (socially retarded and inept Mikey) he smiled in relief.

"Hey," he said easily. "You're Gerard's brother, right?" Mikey nodded.

"Mikey," he supplied helpfully. Frank grinned at him.

"Mikey. Gotcha," he said, holding his hand out for Mikey to shake. Mikey was about to take it, when he realised Frank's arm-movement had uncovered what he'd been reading.

Umbrella Academy.

"Umbrella Academy?" Mikey asked, blinking at it in surprise. Frank withdrew his hand, only to start waving it and its partner around in excitement when he started talking again.

"Dude, have you not read it? Well, this is the latest edition so I'll have to catch you up on the whole story so far, but basically-"

"Dude," Mikey said, and Frank stopped. "I've read the next edition."

"What?" Frank asked, confused. "No, this only came out three days ago-"

"No," Mikey said. He nudged Frank's other arm off the comic (was that impolite? Whatever, Pete had said Frank had no concept of personal space) and flipped it back to the front cover, searching until he found what he wanted.

"See," Mikey said, tapping his finger against the lettering that spelt out 'Gerard Way'. "Gerard. My brother." Frank looked dumbfounded.

"No way, man," he said, shaking his head dazedly. "You- fuck, he's like, my favourite writer, ever. I have a huge boner for his comics." Amusement welled up inside Mikey, accompanied with strong disgust - less details about penises and comics, please - but pure social awkwardness kept the mask on his face blank.

"I'll be sure to tell him that," Mikey said dryly, and Frank giggled, a high-pitched, feminine giggle, immediately covering his mouth like he was embarrassed.

"Seriously, though," Frank said, seemingly awed. "I just can't. Like. Imagine it. Him, I mean. Him being- wow."

"You should tell him you like Umbrella Academy," Mikey said seriously, sensing a window of opportunity. It would get the two talking and bonding and Gerard never ran out of things to talk about comics.

"He'll think I'm weird," Frank said, tracing a shape on the table with his fingers. "I mean. Does he often get strangers complimenting his comics?"

Would it be best to lie, or tell the truth here? What would help more in the given situation? Lying seemed the better option - maybe Frank would think it the norm and do it, but then Gerard would freak and Frank would realise. Fuck, if only Ray were there to help him out. Or Gerard. Gerard was his safe haven in public.

"He never gets anyone complimenting him on anything," Mikey said quietly. "Not since-" he stopped himself, cursing himself - that was Gerard's business, not Mikey's, not Frank's.

"Since what?" Frank asked curiously. Mikey took one look at his earnest, doe-like eyes looking up at him and crumbled.

It wasn't like it was secret, anyway. The entire world knew - it was hardly something he could have hidden. Mikey sighed.

"Gerard was an alcoholic," he said. "He'd been into drink and soft drugs since, like, forever-" as long as Mikey could remember anyway; he remembered Gerard stumbling home completely hammered one night, when Gerard was merely thirteen "-Xanax and stuff, but then he met this guy and. Well." Mikey sighed painfully. "A few months into their relationship, Gerard started using cocaine." Frank's eyes widened. "I, um. I don't really want to talk about it, y'know, but. He's still here today and that's what matters." He felt mentally exhausted after making such a long, emotional speech to someone who was essentially still a stranger.

Was that socially wrong, to tell a stranger your darkest memories, ones you wish you could lock up, destroy and never have to see again?

"Fuck," Frank said honestly. "That's pretty fucked up."

"Yeah," Mikey said, the pang of protectiveness he would have felt if it were anyone else who had said it not appearing. "So, um. Compliment him all you like." He stood there awkwardly for a moment - it was clear the conversation was over, but how was he meant to leave? Simply walking off felt a bit rude - but then Ray, his saviour, his God, his everything, called to him, and he excused himself, hurrying over to where Ray was standing.

"Do the dishes," was all Ray said, like he was some kind of servant, and just like that, everything was back to normal. No emotional turmoil in the foreground of his mind, no spilling his soul to strangers. He took one last look back at Frank for reassurance - only to find Frank smiling softly at the name on the cover of the book.

Mikey found himself smiling too.
-
"You need to get out of the house," Mikey commented, as he walked in to find Gerard scribbling away in his sketchpad for the fourth time in the week. Gerard looked up guiltily. "And take a shower," Mikey added, wrinkling his nose as his brother's stench reached him. Gerard sighed, gazing forlornly at his sketchpad.

"Five more minu-"

"Shower," Mikey said, and Gerard groaned, dragging himself out of the chair.

"I hate you," he told Mikey, before going off to shower, mumbling curses at Mikey as he did so.

Mikey wandered over to see what Gerard had been drawing.

It was only half-finished, but it was crystal clear that it was Frank.
-
"So, Frank was in the café today," Mikey commented casually, sipping his coffee. Gerard spluttered his own out, all over himself.

Attractive.

"What?" he asked. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"He was reading Umbrella Academy," Mikey said, even more casually, as if Gerard hadn't spoken.

"You never tell me anythi- what?" Gerard said.

"He was reading Umbrella Academy," Mikey repeated, deciding to leave out the bit about Frank smiling at Gerard's name, because when put into words, it sounded fucking creepy.

"You're joking," Gerard practically squeaked. "Oh my God. Oh God. Mikey. Mikey."

"What?" Mikey said, just to humour himself, because he knew full well what, but it was fun to watch Gerard flail like this.

"He's hot, he's funny, and he reads my comics," Gerard said. "Fuck, Mikey, Mikey."

"Come with me tomorrow," Mikey said. "You can see for yourself." Gerard shook his head vehemently.

"Fuck, no," he said, wet hair showering Mikey with little droplets of water. "I wouldn't be able to like."

"Not fuck him?" Mikey suggested, because he was funny as fuck, and Gerard glared at him.

"Seriously," Gerard said. "He. My comics. Mine."
-
After much wheedling, threatening and bribing, Mikey finally got Gerard to tag along to the café the next morning. As anticipated, Frank was there, hunched over what Mikey expected was still Umbrella Academy.

"Go on then," Mikey said, nudging Gerard forwards. "Talk to him."

"I can't just talk to him," Gerard said, sounding terrified. "What if he thinks I'm a rapist?"

"What?" Mikey said. "Shut up, talk to him, not me."

"But-" Mikey was already hurrying towards the kitchen, towards Ray, towards a no-Gerard area. Plus, he could still watch Gerard's progress, from a distance.

Win-win.
-
Gerard approached Frank, fiddling with his hair - a nervous habit of his. His mouth moved, and Frank looked up, startled, appearing even more startled when he saw it was Gerard he was beholding, not the other Way. Frank said something in response, gesturing to what was on the table excitedly - Umbrella Academy, no doubt, and Gerard's face lit up (definitely UA) and he started waving his arms around wildly, like he did when he started using Danzig and charmanders as metaphors for love.

Mikey smiled inadvertantly. His brother was quaint as fuck.

Frank seemed to be hanging onto Gerard's every word, and although Gerard had slid into the seat opposite so his back was facing Mikey, Mikey knew he was nervous and eager as hell, leading to his verbal diarrhoea.

"Can you pass me that cheese?" Matt asked, snapping Mikey out of his daydream. Mikey searched for, found and passed the cheese over silently, turning straight back to watch Gerard and Frank, not missing Ray's rolled eyes. He'd retort to that later.

He'd obviously missed something big whilst finding Matt's precious cheese, because Frank was grinning broadly and Gerard's shoulders had relaxed.

"Can you pass me the-" Mikey gave up.
-
"He gave me his number," Gerard said far too nonchalantly, meandering into Mikey's bedroom.

"What the fuck," Mikey asked, hastily closing his laptop. "Have you texted him?"

"He texted me," Gerard said shyly, almost endearing, and Mikey sighed.

"What did you say?"

"We're meeting up for coffee tomorrow," Gerard blurted.

"Where?"

"Ray's café," Gerard shrugged, making eye contact with Mikey as he clambered onto the bed.

So you'd be there, he said with a blink.

I'd be there anyway Mikey's twitched eyebrow said, but smiled to show he appreciated the gesture.

"So, you have a date?" Mikey said, tickling his brother playfully.

"It's not a date! It's not a date!" Gerard protested loudly, squirming away from Mikey. "We're just. Discussing Umbrella Academy."

"Sure," Mikey snorted, rolling off the bed.

"We are!" Gerard said. "We're essentially still strangers."

"First name terms, you have his number, he reads your comics, you're meeting up for coffee tomorrow...now, I don't know about you, but that's not how I treat everyone I meet in the street," Mikey said, earning himself a lazy poke from Gerard, who'd rolled over to face him.

"Fuck you, man, if I say it's not a date, it's not a date."

"And if I say it is, it is," Mikey replied.
-
Gerard had already downed three cups of coffee in anxiety and anticipation. He was jumpy as fuck, twitching every time, like, a butterfly landed on a flower twenty miles away.

"If it's not a date, why are you so stressed?" Mikey asked, because as a brother it was his job to be a dick.

"Fuck you," Gerard said, glaring at Mikey as he pushed open the door to the café. Frank was already seated in his spot (which Mikey had ordered Ray to shift so both chairs were now facing the kitchen sideways-on) and waved excitedly but simultaneously shyly at Gerard, acknowledging Mikey with a grin. Mikey blinked back - his socially fucking retarded version of a full-on grin and Bollywood dance with a flamingo on his head - and hurried off to the kitchen, where he could observe in peace.

"Can you pass me that sausage?" Matt asked.

Well. Relative peace.
-
Mikey had been watching them for about half an hour now, and absolutely nothing of interest had happened. He was starting to wonder if maybe they had only met up for comics when he saw Frank place his hand over Gerard's as he said something. Gerard smiled and glanced down at their hands. He said something else, and Frank laughed, loud enough for Mikey to hear it. Gerard said something else, and Frank looked at him, more sincerely, before leaning forwards and whispering something in his ear, hand still on Gerard's.

Mikey realised, half in horror and half in amusement, that he'd leaned forward in anticipation so much he was practically falling out of the kitchen doorframe.

Frank lingered by Gerard's ear a moment longer than strictly necessary, and when he pulled back, Gerard ducked his head. Gerard only did that when complimented, and it was a reaction Mikey hadn't seen in years from Gerard. A sudden wave of approval of Frank rushed through him. Anyone who complimented Gerard - sincerely complimented Gerard, was a good person in Mikey's books.

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, Frank leaned across the table, took Gerard's face in his hands and kissed him.

The look of surprise on Gerard's face was palpable, but he obviously started kissing back when his eyes fluttered shut. Mikey would usually turn away and gag at this point, but there was something so magical about seeing his brother feel, seeing him feel for someone at that.

When they broke apart, Gerard was beaming. Mikey hadn't seen him this happy in his whole life. He had never radiated so much positive energy. He turned to where he knew Mikey would be.

I think I'll be okay.

Mikey felt all the happiness and relief that Gerard would be better well up inside him, and a single hot, wet, salty tear rolled down his cheek. He made no move to wipe it away.

He'd never been so happy in his whole life.